The top three things which cause me to throw a book across the room
So the title is somewhat exaggerated. I don’t really throw books across the room, but when faced with any of the below, I most certainly close them with disgust. As nearly every fiction writer, I’m a reader first. And in my reading journey, I’ve come across many lapses of writerly/editorial judgement. Many forgivable. Most forgettable. But then again, there’s the other type…
Of course writing it subjective, and so what repels me, might be the height of entertainment for others. But here are some things I absolutely hate coming across in fiction:
- Pontificating is the top of the list. In the era of social media, being loud about every single thought running through our minds has become endemic. So much so that on occasion writers forget what their job it: to transport the reader into the world of their book. It is expressly not the place to copy and paste your least popular tweet, which you feel really ought to have gained more traction based on its pure incisiveness. Whether it’s politics you wish to discuss, or the state of education in your home country, or the way you think people REALLY OUGHT TO dress for an evening party, your book is not the place to vent those views. If it doesn’t serve the story, it belongs in the editorial bin.
- Gross self-inserts. I was reading a novel some time ago, by a rather well-known author, where the young, feisty female protagonist is mooned over (in the most inappropriate and creepy way, frankly) by her, let’s call him “mentor”. This mentor is much older, in a position of authority over the female protagonist, and has no qualities that could possibly be attractive to the object of his desire. Yet, at a pretty randomly chosen point, the girl notices him. She suddenly sees him in a different light. The bumbling, boring-as-toast older man becomes interesting and masculine in her eyes. Little things she never noticed before light up a fire within… For no reason. Literally nothing’s changed in the older man. He did nothing note-worthy (in front of the female protagonist at least). And as the pages droned on, one couldn’t help but see the somewhat disturbing similarities between the mentor character and the author. And of course, I wouldn’t begrudge anyone the private fantasy of “punching above one’s weight”. But when written down, it is painfully obvious that that’s exactly what it is: the author’s self-indulgent fantasy.
- Ye olde stylle of speech. Certain genres are particularly prone to this grievous sin. Sometimes a writer really really wants to show that the book is in fact set not in anything approaching a contemporary setting, but could very beautifully fit in the standards of the olden days. The temptation to rewrite everything in a style neigh incomprehensible to the modern reader can sometimes be too much to resist. The easiest way to indulge the urge is to pile in archaic vocabulary, mess with syntax, sprinkle in some schoolboy french and voila! A book with prose that resembles nothing in the history of the English language is ready! And while it doesn’t bother everyone equally, I find it distracting, occasionally hilarious (when eyes become “orbs” for example, to emphasise that before 1950s vocabulary was so much more refined), and mostly disappointing. There are many ways to transport a reader to a particular time and place. Misusing archaisms is not one of them.
My most anticipated books of 2021!
Editing the New Thing and the Sparkly Ideas
I’m waiting for my agent to finish reading through my big picture edits (see the last post) of my adult fantasy novel, let’s call it novel X.
What does one do in this time, except drive themselves mad with anxiety? Well, if you’re me, you have a very long list of to-do jobs. When I was querying and then waiting for my agent’s edit points, I completed my YA fantasy novel, set in the world of Slavic sea myths. And now is the perfect time to do the edits on that draft. The. Perfect. Time. So what do I do? I come up with a shiny Middle Grade novel idea that keeps me up at night and sends me to the reference texts for research.
I bat it away and plow away at the YA novel, which I am enjoying, I truly am. And it keeps coming back. Just one sentence, just the opening line… it whispers in my ear. And twenty minutes later I find I wrote the opening scene.
“No!” I shout and go back to my edits. To the edits of that really hard scene in the middle, where the dialogue just didn’t feel quite right and I need to change that one word but I don’t know to what…
Still, the new shiny idea beckons, as I grapple with the muddle of a scene.
Just the rough outline. It’s in your head anyway. You might as well write it down before you forget. Because you will forget. Remember that short story you dreamt up? The one you don’t remember, because you didn’t write it down?
“It was a stupid idea. All I could remember was a live sea being carved up by aliens.”
Perhaps. But you remembered how it feeeelt…
And so I obligingly tap-tappity-tap away on my keyboard.
But I’m at my favourite café today, sipping a latte and feeling strong! So no more distractions, no more diversions, no more interruptions!
But you have this dialogue in your head already… Maybe you can just…
SHUT UP!
Books by Women
I have recently come across a Twitter thread by the wonderful Joanne Harris where she quoted a review of her own book, Chocolat, where the author of the review chose to describe it as a tale of a a single mother who liked chocolate. I kid you not.
That prompted an extensive conversation and wide-spread mockery of course, focused around how women’s books are often misrepresented simply because they are written by women. There’s a reason why Robin Hobb and JK Rowling chose to stay gender-neutral on the covers. Books by women are perceived differently. Let’s start with the sad fact that a lot of men will glance over a book written by a woman, assuming straight off that its intended audience are women. Nobody makes a similar assumption about books written by men.
It made me think about all the wonderful, nuanced titles by female authors which have been overlooked or miscategorised because of their authors’ gender. If a book is written by a woman and it has a hint of romance in it, the entire thing can be conveniently dumped in a “romance genre”. If it portrays family relationships or female friendships, it can be chick-lit and nothing more.
But when a man writes about the exact same subject we often automatically bestow an assumption of gravitas onto the work.
Now I’m not trying to be overly critical of the romance genre at all. There are some wonderfully written books in that genre, just like everywhere else. But it is undeniable that most men will not touch anything that has been dumped into that category with a ten-foot pole.
My favourite book of all time, one which I reread once every year or two, is The Blue Castle by Lucy Maud Montgomery. I would argue it’s a tremendously sensitive portrayal of loneliness and the habit-forming resignation to a life of social exclusion and anonymity. It shows the crippling fear of poverty, and female poverty especially, which has such power that it can stunt personal growth and thwart even the most modest of personal ambitions. It also describes the strength and determination required to break free, and the exhilaration which follows it.
But The Blue Castle is by no means a terribly famous or popular book. It’s seen as a romance and the subtlety and charm of it are stripped in the descriptions of it. You can buy it in paperback generally, with tacky, pastel covers usually reserved for Harlequin editions. The kind of covers which instantly signal “This is for women only”.
And all I want to ask is “why”? Not just why are women authors thus undervalued and misrepresented, but why are we depriving men of what could be, without a doubt, an oft wonderful reading experience.
Character sketches
Now for something entirely different… When I write I like to do a few sketches here and there: mostly of my characters and maps, though I have in the past done larger illustrations too. I thought I would share a few of them.
It serves a purpose further than just indulging my love for art. It fixes the characters in my mind. Though they might and often do change within the time it takes me to complete a manuscript, taking the time to pause and commit their features to paper gives me a sense of where they are and where they’re going. And once the manuscript is indeed finished, it’s interesting to look back and see the snapshot of how I imagined certain elements of my WiP at each moment in time.






